Love Hits Like a Bludger
by Hogwarts Dropout
Summary: Rolanda Hooch and Minerva McGonagall have never gotten along well as dorm mates, but things really heat up between the two of them during seventh year. Femslash MM/RH
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Well, I'm taking on a new couple. I personally think that lesbian couples in the HP Fanfiction realm are overlooked far too often. This particular story features Rolanda Hooch and Minerva McGonnagal in their seventh year and will eventually extend to their adult lives and their careers at Hogwarts. In case you are wondering, "Rolanda" is Hooch's real first name. It's on her personality card in the HP card game. 

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CHAPTER 1

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Those Strange and Wonderful Kisses

The staff all said that there had never been such opposite students that resided in the same house. On one hand, there was the graceful and stern Minerva McGonagall – Head Girl yet still unpopular, impossibly organized and ridiculously prim. If she was not in the transfiguration classroom she was in the library, constantly with her nose in a book. Her polar opposite? Rolanda Hooch. Unanimously the most popular girl amongst all the houses, the most promising athlete Hogwarts had seen in centuries, and barely passing in all her classes. Yet, the two of them lived in the same dorm without hexing each other too badly, and somehow managed to coexist somewhat peacefully. 

As it was, there had only been six Gryffindor girls in their year to begin with. Hogwarts' population had reduced by half, because most parents were educating their children at home due to the threat of Grindelwald looming over everyone. Headmaster Dippet, though a competent educator, was far from a trustworthy defender. In fact, parents were pulling their children out of his care so fast that Hufflepuff only had four seventh years total. Gryffindor, though it had the largest number of younger students, had few advanced children. Minerva and Rolanda were the last two seventh years left in the girl's dormitory. And it was a miracle they hadn't killed each other yet. 

"For fuck's sake, Minerva! How the hell am I supposed to get to my bed?" Rolanda raged, her unusual (and beautiful) eyes taking in the piles of books that literally covered the floor. Minerva was in the middle of it all, sitting on her bed and flipping through pages like they scalded her fingers. She cringed, as she usually did, at her roommate's vulgar language. She had been raised in a proper pureblood family that was extremely well to do. She never cussed, and she certainly never raised her voice. Well, except around Hooch. The other girl could make her forget herself when she became completely outrageous in her behavior. 

"I don't know, Rolanda. Why don't you use your big _twig_ to get to your bed." She said in a sharp tone, indicating she did not want to be disturbed. Rolanda rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her wild, white spikes. 

"It's called a broom, Minerva. Don't be bitter just because you can't stay on one to save your life." She replied distractedly, agilely avoiding the piles of books as she hopped to her bed. Rolanda was in complete contrast to the prude appearance of the girl studying on the bed beside her. Minerva had long, evenly cut black locks (she still had bangs at the age of seventeen), and plain brown eyes always hidden behind garish, square spectacles. Rolanda Hooch had an unnatural beauty that made you look twice at her to see if she was real. Her hair was so blonde it looked silver, suggesting she had Veela blood in her. Of course, you couldn't see much of her hair because she cut it all off in her third year. According to her, it got in the way when she played quidditch. Minerva had been shocked when she cut it. It had been waist long with a gentle curl to it, a gorgeous flow of silver and the envy of every girl. But, as she didn't have a vain bone in her body, she cut it all off one night – and it still looked great on her. It was so short it was spiky, but it made her look pixyish, and no one even thought to call it butch. Her eyes had once been a shocking, icy blue. But, that had been before Minerva transfigured her into a cat in their fifth year, and no matter what doctor they called, her eyes were permanently yellow and luminous. They had suggested she hide them with a spell, but Rolanda would hear none of it. She said she liked the cat eyes, because she could see ten times better than she could before and it apparently helped her quidditch game. 

From her place on the bed, Rolanda yawned noisily. Agitatedly, Minerva flicked her eyes to see what her roommate was up to. 

Nothing. Big surprise there. Well, not exactly nothing. Her quidditch robes, looking very wind flustered, were being removed unhurriedly. She sat against her headboard, tugging at the bindings in a bored manner, eventually sliding out of her outer robe and tossing it to the floor. As though she were alone, because Rolanda had no modesty what so ever, she tugged the Gryffindor sweater over her torso, revealing two firm, puckered breasts in a sturdy sports bra. Minerva's eyes fixed back on her texts as she fought down a blush. How many times had she chastised Rolanda for stripping down in front of her? It was unladylike and disgusting. She didn't want to see another girl naked. 

Her eyes flickered back to the undressing form. She was now wiggling slowly out of the tight quidditch breeches, stopping to unlace her boots. As she bent over in the bed, Minerva got an eyeful of her perfect figure, toned and muscular in all the right places – the picture of womanly strength. She thought of her own stick figure, her tiny breasts and legs that were too long for her body. But at least she had a brain. That would get her farther than Hooch's good looks would ever get her. 

The pants and boots were off now. She flopped back in bed, her tiny cotton panties arching over her shapely thighs like twin white rainbows. Her sports bra revealed the tops of her tanned breasts. Minerva idly wondered how she became tan all over. She eyed her own pale skin with distaste. She needed to focus on her studies. She had a cumulative potions exam tomorrow. 

Speaking of which, "Aren't you going to study for the potions exam?" She asked tartly, refusing to look at the girl that was now sitting with her legs folded under her, revealing the tiny rectangular crotch of her panties as she shot Minerva a disbelieving look. 

"Won't have time. Quidditch game against Slytherin tomorrow. I'll be out practicing tonight." She finally answered, flopping back onto her bed. Minerva felt the stirrings of a lecture coming on inside her. 

"I could report you for that. You know it's not allowed." She bossed, her nose in the air. Rolanda rolled her eyes before pinning Minerva down with them. She began to tug off her sports bra. Minerva couldn't look away. 

"I also know you won't tell." She almost had the bra entirely off, holding Minerva in those hypnotic eyes like a frog pinned to a dissecting tray, when she abruptly let the elastic slap against her skin. "Sorry," She said in a tone that suggested she wasn't, "I forgot that you're not comfortable with nudity." She said with a smirk at Minerva's look, one that was firmly fixed to Rolanda's bust. Then, with a smirk, "though you don't look too embarrassed." Minerva instantly went tomato red, stuttering with indignation as Rolanda slid off the bed and sauntered into the bathroom, bending over her truck and showing off her ass. She rummaged around until she found some plastic pants and a tank top. Minerva, absolutely livid with the accusation that had just been made, shouted through the bathroom door. 

"Don't you dare leave those robes on the floor for me to pick up! I have more useful things to do with my time!" Minerva heard Rolanda's husky laughter on the other side of the door. 

"I'll pick them up when those books are gone. Besides, I have more interesting people to do with my time." It was well known that Rolanda was not a virgin, though she certainly wasn't a slut. However, to Minerva, anyone who slept with someone else before they were married (and with other girls no less!) was a whore of the worst kind. 

She'd probably be a virgin on the day she died. 

~ 

Rolanda jogged through Hogwarts, broom hoisted onto her shoulder. Downstairs she met up with Damien, the game announcer and her biggest fan/friend. 

"Well, did you ask her?" He questioned as she slowed her pace to walk with him, an irritable look on her pretty face. 

"Bloody hell, Damien. I did everything short of lap dance for her. She doesn't need those spectacles, she's still blind as a bat." Rolanda vehemently exclaimed. Damien was the only one who knew of her long lasting crush on her roommate and (to the eyes of everyone else) sworn enemy. 

"Come on, 'Londa, you know she's a prude. She might not even go for girls." He soothed. Rolanda rolled her eyes. 

"She does. She just doesn't know it yet. Hopefully she'll figure it out before I attempt to put my tongue down her throat. I wouldn't put it past her to bite it off." 

Damien laughed and they continued on towards the quidditch pitch for another few good hours of practice. Today was Saturday, and aside from her little show for Minerva, Rolanda spent it practicing from morning till dark. 

~

It was midnight, and Minerva was sitting down in the Gryffindor common room. There was a book in her lap (when wasn't there?) but she was not reading it. Finally, the portrait swung open and the lithe figure of her roommate slunk in, broom hoisted over her shoulder. She didn't make a sound, and the common room was nearly pitch black, so she jumped in alarm when Minerva lit up her wand. 

"This is ridiculous, Hooch. Three A.M.? I'm reporting you to Headmaster Dippet first thing in the morning." She preached, her hands on her hips and her eyebrows forked downwards in anger. Rolanda sighed, tossed her broom to the floor (carefully and reverently of course) and proceeded to close the distance between herself and the Head Girl. With no warning or indication of her intent, she firmly pulled Minerva against her and soundly kissed her. 

Minerva remained stunned, her eyes wide in the dark as Rolanda's lips moved against hers. As if a light had been turned on, she pushed Rolanda away violently, sending her sprawling over a chair. There was a small moan when she fell, and forgetting what had just happened, Minerva rushed to her side. Rolanda's luminous eyes were glaring at her heatedly in the dark. 

"Minerva." She growled warningly. The other witch bit on her lip nervously. 

"Yes?" She hesitatingly responded. 

"You broke my ankle." Was the low reply. Minerva gulped in fear of what she'd done. (She'd pushed a girl! That constituted a fight!) And she'd broken her ankle! But not just any ankle, the ankle attached to the girl that would need it for tomorrow's big game against Slytherin. If Rolanda didn't kill her, and the teachers didn't expel her, then the rest of the Gryffindor team would surely do it for them. 

"I'm sorry! It's just you … you … and then …" She stuttered as Rolanda merely stared at her, beads of sweat on her forehead as she kept a calm face. 

"Well?" She ground out. Minerva looked blank. "For fuck's sake Min! Get me to the hospital wing!" She bellowed finally, capturing the other girl's hand in a crushing embrace. 

"Right! I don't know how I'm going to lift you down there though …" Minerva began, completely loosing her decorum and dignity. Rolanda rolled her eyes. 

"Levitate me, you twit!" She intoned sharply, biting her lip in an effort not to cry. Minerva let out a muttered exclamation and fetched her wand from the coffee table. In a voice infused with years of practice, she effectively levitated her roommate. 

Perhaps a bit too effectively. As a result of her nervous state, Rolanda was propelled into the ceiling as if she were sitting on top of a geyser. She let out a cry of pain before the spell was broken and she went crashing back to the floor. She still refused to cry, but she could not contain the long stream of incoherent moaning. 

Minerva began to panic, but she made herself breathe deeply and focus on the spell. She used the spell again, sighing in relief when it yielded her the result she wanted. Hurriedly, she flung open the Fat Lady portrait and began tugging Rolanda through the air like a puppet with invisible strings. Her foot was hanging in an interesting angle, and her shoulder looked awkward as well. 

Finally, they made it to the infirmary. Madam Violet, the antiquated nurse who never asked too many questions, shuffled into the infirmary in a robe and fuzzy slippers. The sight of Rolanda in such a state roused her into surprisingly quick action for her ninety something years. She sent Minerva back to her dorm, and began to work her magic. 

Minerva could feel a horrible weight in the pit of her stomach. Worry overwhelmed her, nearly making her sick with its strength. And she felt guilty, too, and a nice bit of shame was mixed in as well. 

And that kiss! Her first kiss …

It had been so strange and wonderful. 

She paused at the doorway to the infirmary, watching as Rolanda arched her back in pain, gritting her teeth with amazingly dry eyes, taking the painful effects of Skele-Gro as if it were merely a cut that had just been doused in alcohol. Cleansing moonlight illuminated her goddess like features as she relaxed against the pillow, breathing hard with her fingers knotted in the sheets, chest heaving and long lashes fluttering closed. Minerva had the distinct feeling that she was watching something private, and she suddenly felt like she was committing a mortal sin. 

As she walked into their moonlit room, she dazedly looked upon it as if she were seeing it for the first time. There was one messy bed, and one neat one. One half of the room looked like a library, the other half looked like a quidditch supply store. And then she did something that she had never done before. 

As if she was walking on holy ground, she crossed the distinct boundary and sat on Rolanda's bed. The mattress was soft, as if made of water, completely unlike her firm one across the room. The pillows all smelled like sunshine and the outdoors, not musty and hinting of the leather binding on books as hers did. 

Suddenly, as if realizing she was sitting on Rolanda's bed smelling her pillows, she shot up scalded and practically leaped into her bed. She slipped out of her robe and tossed it on a nearby chair, before closing her eyes and trying to block out the mess of emotions that were bouncing around like bludgers in her skull.

A/N: So, what did you guys think? Normally I don't ask for feedback, but as this is my first time posting something with this couple, I'd appreciate some reviews if you like the idea or have some criticism for me. It can only make my story better! I already have the next chapter finished, but I'm going to wait until I get your reactions before I post it.


	2. Lucky Pendant

**CHAPTER 2 **

_That Big Thing behind the School_

The next morning upon waking, Rolanda groaned and groggily reached for the glass of water on the bed stand. Memories from the past night were swimming around in her head like ghostly goldfish, flittering in and out of detail. She remembered pain, a great deal of it actually, but for some reason she had not let herself cry. Her ankle was throbbing under the airy hospital sheets, but the agonizing pain was gone. Her shoulder felt like it was under a sack of bricks, and she had no idea why. 

She'd kissed her. 

_'Oh yeah.__ Heh. I kissed her, didn't I?' _ 

A silly little grin came to her face, before it was promptly dropped when she realized she had an audience. 

"She's waking up!" An excitable little voice chirruped. That would be Robby, third year chaser that she'd put on the team against her better judgement. He had a lot of unpolished talent, but he talked a mile a minuet and far too frequently. 

"Put a sock in it, Rob. Give her some air." Ah. The much more welcome voice of Damien. She opened her eyes. Someone pushed the water glass she'd been blindly reaching for into her hand. She guzzled half of it, then splashed her face with the remaining water. Shaking it off in a spray of liquid she looked at the crowd huddled around her bed. 

The entire Gryffindor quidditch team, six of her closest friends, and a few lurking Slytherins registered in her mind. Everyone was quiet for a moment, and then like a flood everyone began talking. 

"Are you okay, 'Londa?"

"What on earth happened?" 

"Are you still gonna play today?" 

"Who beat you up so bad?" 

Rolanda smiled shook her head just as Madam Violet came to break up the crowd. 

"Of course I'll play, today. What a silly question." She replied. The Slytherins, getting the answer they were waiting for, sulked off irritably. The quidditch team looked relieved, but curiosity still held their features.  

Eight hours later, and just two hours before the big game at five, a timid visitor came into the hospital wing who had been waiting for the seemingly constant throng of well-wishers around Rolanda to disperse. 

"Hello, Rolanda. How are you feeling?" She asked primly, having decided on the way to the hospital wing that it would be best to pretend as if nothing had happened. She had already explained to the Headmaster that Rolanda had merely tripped in the common room, and in her panic to get her to the hospital wing, she had been a bit over zealous with her levitating charm. The Headmaster had been completely understanding and trusting, merely chastising her lightly and reminding her to make sure she made a trip to the infirmary to check on the patient and apologize. 

Rolanda crossed her arms over her chest, glad when her shoulder gave her no pain, and smirked. 

"I know why you've never had a lover now, Min. Do you beat up everyone who tries to kiss you?" Rolanda asked in that straightforward way that she was so comfortable with. Facing such a blunt reminder of the kiss, Minerva had a hard time pretending she didn't know what Rolanda was talking about. 

"Well I don't know. You're the only person that's ever tried to kiss me." She said a bit flustered, sitting in the chair beside Rolanda's bed and agitatedly blowing her bangs out of her eyes. She forgot to be a lady in Rolanda's presence. Rolanda only gave her a surprised arched eyebrow in response. Uncomfortable with the silence, Minerva tried to change the subject. "Are you still going to be able to play?" She asked, gaining back some of her composure. 

"Are you going to come watch me?" Rolanda tossed back, casually letting her hand brush over Minerva's thigh as she reached for a chocolate frog on the bed stand. Minerva watched the hand as if it were a poisonous snake slithering up her leg. She let out a distinct little squeaking noise and abruptly stood up. 

"You k-know I d-don't ever go to s-silly little things like q-q-quidditch matches. I have studying to do." She made herself stop stuttering like a nervous little fool. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't hurt too badly, and extend an apology. Now that I've done that, I should be going." 

She didn't move. 

"Minerva, I want you to go to my game. It's at five, at the quidditch pitch. You know what that is, right? Big stadium out behind the school. You can't miss it. I'll be the one on the broomstick flying circles around the Slytherins." Rolanda said cheekily, licking a smudge of chocolate off her index finger in a wicked little sucking motion. Minerva watched the digit slip between her moist lips as if enchanted. "I won't accept your apology unless I see you there." She added in a barely audible whisper, so that Minerva had to lean in slightly to hear her. Like a Venus Flytrap that just sensed prey, Rolanda grabbed a fistful of Minerva's robes and pulled her onto the bed, soundly kissing the blazes out of her. Minerva's chocolate brown eyes widened comically, before her entire body relaxed into the feel of Rolanda. Her eyelashes fluttered closed and her chin tilted into the kiss. 

A door slammed somewhere in the infirmary and Minerva jumped off the bed as if Rolanda's lips had electrocuted her. It was only Madam Violet shuffling around in the back storage room. Rolanda, who looked a bit startled as well, smiled at their jumpiness and stared unabashedly at Minerva's lovely visage. 

"You're beautiful, you know that, Min?" She asked softly, crossing her arms above her head and grinning like a well-fed cat. Minerva gave an unreadable look towards the storage room, and then gave a more confused, analyzing one to Rolanda. Without another word she took a few steps backward and then turned on her heel and ran out of the infirmary.      

Madam Violet was rather lax on her patients, so when Rolanda politely asked to attend the game, Madam Violet merely smiled benignly and waved her off. When Rolanda made it back to her dorms, Minerva was no where in sight. She was probably in the library, but Rolanda secretly was wishing she had gone to the stands to wait for the game to start. 

She hurriedly pulled on the tight white breeches and unyielding leather boots. Her red jersey came next, with the bright gold "C" on the right corner that signified her as the captain. Her maroon quidditch robes completed the ensemble, along with knuckle gloves and her lucky pendant. She'd never lost a game while she wore the pendant. Despite how sappily romantic it was, Minerva had discarded the broken pendant when she bought a new one, and Rolanda had fixed it without her knowledge and now never played a game without it on. 

She met her team in the locker rooms and quickly went over the tactics for the upcoming game. The rising crescendo of the crowd's noise began to drift into the locker rooms. Rolanda had full confidence in her team, as they practiced the hardest, used the best moves, and flew like they were all of one mind. 

"The only thing standing between us and the quidditch cup is the Ravenclaw team. They've got some good chasers, but we've already beaten them once this year. Even if we loose this game, we'll still be in the finals for the cup. Therefore, I want to use this game to practice some of our more challenging and complicated moves. I know we can do them, and if there ever is a time to show off, it's now. I have reason to believe that a few scouts from the professional teams are in the stands today. Don't be flashy, but don't rush this game. We have a strong team in every way, and I want those scouts to see how talented you all are. Oh, and it wouldn't hurt if we completely cream the Slytherins tonight," she finished with an infectious grin. Her team let out some excited whoops and yells, slinging their brooms over their shoulders and jogging out of the locker room. 

When Rolanda scanned the stands, she was not looking for potential scouts. No, she was searching for a particular brunette that had stolen her breath that morning in the hospital wing. She was the only one that Rolanda was aiming to impress. 

And impress they did. The Gryffindor team worked like a well oiled machine. The Slytherin chasers didn't score once on the Gryffindor keeper, who made five impossible saves that sent the crowd into shouts of amazement. The Gryffindor chasers laced up and down the field sewing intricate patterns that often left the Slytherin chasers flying in the wrong direction or spinning in circles. Rolanda waited until they'd scored over a hundred points, with no competition from the Slytherins, until she performed a new move she'd been working on for years. 

Something like it had never been seen in a school level quidditch game ever before. From the opposite side of the field, Rolanda spotted the snitch. Unfortunately, the Slytherin seeker was racing towards it with a half a field head start. Everyone began screaming like wild men when Rolanda flattened herself against her broom and shot forward like a bullet. She began to spiral, using the movement to increase her speed unbelievably. There was simply no way she would be able to stop herself in time to catch the snitch! 

But it got worse. When she reached the other seeker, he was scared shitless to have her come barreling at him so fast that her broom looked like it couldn't stand the speed she was demanding of it. Then, surely intending suicide, she shot past him into a completely vertical nosedive. The teachers stood up, knowing there was no possible way she would be able to stop in time without killing herself. 

Just when she was a hair's breath away from the ground, and when the teachers had their slowing spells on the tips of their tongues, she did a complete one eighty and slowed considerably on her ascent. The Slytherin seeker, who'd been so shocked when she barreled straight at him, remained unseeing as she lazily plucked the oblivious snitch out of the air. 

The crowd was completely silent. The game had stopped to watch the chase. Rolanda hadn't been aiming to beat him to the snitch at all … she'd been relying on the fact that she could scare him into backing off with her furious, record breaking speed. 

With that, Rolanda Hooch pulled off the best fake that had ever been seen in a Hogwarts quidditch game, ended the perfect game, and sent the whole of Gryffindor house into complete uproar. 

Minerva used the mad crowd as a cover to sneak out of the stands. Rolanda wasn't the only one to break a record that night. Minerva had quite possibly screamed the loudest out of all the Gryffindors. She headed straight for the library. She had to read all about this fabulous thing that she'd been missing out on.     

A/N: Yes, I'm still alive. Despite it nearly being three months since I updated this fic, I am going to try and finish it. Just bear with me. Thanks, for all the reviews by the way!


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